B In This Case, It's Not All In His Head
by Manchester
Summary: By the time they returned to the hotel, every single one of the others had secretly vowed to themselves, "I'm not cleaning up after him."


"Moooooo."

The midnight-black bull stood uncomfortably in the middle of the Hyperion lobby, all too conscious of his four limbs that needed to be used with the utmost careful attention. It had been a total nightmare getting back to the headquarters of the Fang Gang from a decaying factory, whereupon a truly bizarre incident had taken place, when that group had confronted and defeated an evil wizard having a nasty knack with transformation spells, and from the looks of things, Angel's existence was now about to become far, far worse.

"MMMMOOOOO!" The bull bellowed at an approaching figure, who had in her hands a ready-for-use object that promised to be in the next few seconds much more unpleasant for the vampire in his new shape than any bullfighter's banderillas.

As Cordelia Chase brought up her digital camera and ran off a dozen shots of the furious animal angrily shaking his head at her, that unimpressed young woman just snickered, and as she continued taking more pictures of Angel in his current form, Cordelia haughtily pointed out, "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to pass up getting this on film! I wasn't able to get any pictures of you as a puppet, so this is just as good!"

Pawing his right front hoof once on the floor, Angel beadily eyed the former Queen of Sunnydale High School, and he indulged in a brief fantasy of viciously charging and butting Cordy, sending her flying through the air in a graceful arc, right towards the front doors of his hotel, to burst through these and winding up in an undignified sprawl onto the outside sidewalk. Continuing shooting pictures until her camera signaled it was full, Cordelia sneered back at Angel, as if she had guessed the vampire's outraged thoughts.

At least those emotions were more bearable than what someone else in his head was currently broadcasting. Somewhere in his mind, Angelus, as malevolent a monster as had ever walked the earth, was now flat on his back, arms wrapped around himself, as that demon howled in helpless laughter, his legs kicking in sheer delight, all at the absolutely ludicrous situation Angel was currently enduring.

The Irish vampire's irate mood suddenly changed to glumly wondering if anything might come of Angelus having one moment of pure happiness. Contemplating that, Angel swung his head around, his wide bovine eyes sending a desperate signal towards the two people who'd been given the task of finding out if he could be changed back to his former self, hoping that Fred and Wesley had finally come up with something.

At this moment, it didn't look as if Fred had the answer right at the tip of her tongue, considering she was resting her face flat down on top of the table where she was sitting, surrounding by numerous books of spells and enchantments, with her hands clasped together on top of her skull, as that woman continuously giggled, unable to contain her amusement.

Resignedly dismissing any aid from that quarter, Angel shifted his hopeful gaze to where Wesley was sitting by the hysterical Texan. At least that man was still searching through his own tomes, ceaselessly flipping through the pages while keeping on his features his stiffest upper lip. Or perhaps, that Englishman was just biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from showing how chuffed to bits he was.

Lifting his head at that moment to glance at Angel, Wesley had a slightly ruptured expression pass over his face, before that Briton regained his normally imperturbable look, clearing his throat to murmur, "Er, I don't think we've found much more information than identifying your specific circumstances, where it appears in the mundane medical journals as a rather odd mental condition, or in the mystical chronicles, being shown as an actual physical manifestation. Though, to me, the narrative of King Nebuchadnezzar in the Bible has a most fascinating similarity--"

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce now halted his recitation due to receiving a look of pure fury from a one-ton, cloven-hoofed mammal that was seriously considering stomping a former Watcher into a thin paste on the floor. Fortunately, Angel and everyone else there was then distracted by the appearance of the final member of Angel Investigations, as Gunn now staggered into the lobby from the back entrance.

His bald head streaming with sweat, the former street punk lurched over to stand in front of Angel, with the young man barely keeping his balance due to the inequal weight of his dual burdens. Still, Gunn was a truly happy man, as demonstrated by his wide grin and laying it on a bit thick with his exultant declaration of, "Damn, but this homie has never been prouder of his 'hood! I'm telling you, guys, you know you're living in a real city when you can get anything at any time of the night!"

As he finished saying that, Gunn dropped his filled bucket of water on the ground under Angel's snout, and he let the hay bale resting on his other shoulder roll off, to fall onto the floor, landing with a soft "thump!" and spreading through the air of the room the sweet, unfamiliar smell of dried grass.

Angel stared downwards with his color-blind vision at the large, aromatic bundle of hay, and he felt with horror the sudden urge of his newly-acquired boanthropy that demanded he consume his offered food. It didn't help at all that his struggling to control this was totally futile, due to the fact that Angel had actually been physically changed into exactly what that word had usually identified as a truly weird mental illness.

As he desperately fought against and failed to withstand the type of insanity in which a man thinks he's an ox, the vampire lowered his head, opened his mouth to snatch a massive bite from the hay bale, and with stray strands of straw dangling from the corners of his muzzle, Angel began masticating his meal.

All while Cordelia pulled out another camera from her dress pocket and shot some more pictures to preserve this priceless moment for posterity. And for future blackmail purposes, naturally.


End file.
